


Dust

by alizziema



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Everyone Needs A Hug, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I have a strange addiction to watching IW, I'm Bad At Tagging, IronDad and SpiderSon, Just a retelling of Peter's death, Marvel's a piece of shit for ruining this beautiful relationsip, My First AO3 Post, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, and I need to let feelings out, platonic hugs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-02
Updated: 2018-08-02
Packaged: 2019-06-20 17:41:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15539553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alizziema/pseuds/alizziema
Summary: Over the past two years the two had grown close—notextremelyclose, of course—but close enough to work on projects together and to go get ice cream together and to watch movies together, and it wasn’t weird or awkward. Tony would bother him about his homework and ask him if he was doing okay whenever they saw each other, and Peter would, of course, be actively trying not to stutter or do something awkward whenever they talked because the man still gave him a heart attack every time he saw him becauseJesus Christ he was Tony Stark.But, Peter realized, he wasn’t just Tony Stark. He wasn’t just Tony.He was his father.And Peter felt like the biggest dumbass in the world for noticing it at the last second.ORAnother retelling of Peter's death from his perspective with some added feels





	Dust

Something was wrong.

Peter could feel it in his gut; a sticky, nauseating mixture of dread, anticipation and fear. It felt like the universe had somehow stopped around him—like the constant buzz that was always there was suddenly silenced. And the silence was deafening. He could feel his heart pounding wildly in his chest, thumping so loudly against his ribs that he thought it was going to burst out. Something felt _wrong_.

"Something’s happening..."

It took Peter a moment to realize that those were not his thoughts, and was voiced by someone else. And that moment was all it took for that person to be gone.

Because when Peter went to face her, all he saw was dust. 

With a sudden, painful wrench of his heart, he realized what had happened. 

They lost.

Peter wasn’t prepared to witness someone crumbling (they weren’t dying they weren’t dying they _weren’t dying_ ). The next one to go was the man standing next to Quill—was his name Dran? Drax? He wasn’t too good with names. 

It happened so quickly. 

One moment he was standing there, eyes wide in shock from seeing his teammate crumble, and with the turn of a head he was gone. Peter watched as Quill’s eyes went wide, and as his body suddenly tensed and he turned to Tony.

“Be steady, Quill,” Tony said, taking a shaky step towards the (he wasn’t dying he wasn’t dying he _wasn’t dying_ ) guardian. His voice was thick with emotion, though Peter couldn’t identify which ones.

“Oh man...”

And he turned to dust.

Both Tony and Peter’s eyes made their way over to where Strange sat, as if some sort of primal sense in them could tell what was going to happen next. Strange’s eyes were heavy and pained, and he let them meet Tony’s.

“There was no other way,” he said softly, voice raw and shaking with repressed emotion. 

And he was dust.

Peter looked down, taking in short, labored breaths because of a panic that had somehow clawed its way into his chest in the past minute. His hands were clenched at his side and his body was tense to prevent himself from trembling in fear like the child he was because people were (they weren’t dying they weren’t dying they _weren’t dying_ ) turning to dust in front of his eyes. He couldn’t be weak—not yet. There was still a fight waiting to happen.

There was no way Thanos was going to win, not while the Avengers were around. Of course, there would be some complications and they’d have to get back to Earth to regroup or something, but Peter didn’t doubt that they could rebuild what was left of the ship. After all, Tony and Peter were still—

Then he felt it. 

A soft tingle of numbness starting at the tips of his fingers and toes and slowly growing up into his hands and feet. 

Peter felt his heart drop into his stomach.

“M-Mr. Stark? I-I don’t...feel so good.” 

Tony’s eyes widened and an unspoken realization dawned between the two. 

“You’re alright,” his mentor said softly, almost robotically. 

It wasn’t a question, Peter noticed. It was a statement. He was alright.

_He was alright_.

Peter found himself stumbling forward towards Tony as the reality of the situation dawned upon him. Panic tore deep into his chest, and he could feel it getting harder and harder to breathe with every passing second (but he wasn’t dying he _wasn’t dying_ ). 

“I don’t...I-I don’t know what’s happening, I—“ 

His legs gave out, the numbness having already spread and starting to grow into something more. It felt like something was ripping into his flesh and pulling out each of his cells and tearing them apart individually, like his entire body was breaking down and he couldn’t do anything to stop it (but he wasn’t dying he wasn’t dying he _wasn’t dying_ ). 

Peter barely even registered the fact that his hero— _Tony Stark_ —was hugging him until his own arms were already clutching onto the back of his shirt. 

“I-I don’t wanna go.”

Saying those words out loud made everything feel more real. 

He didn’t want to die—he still had to much to do. He wanted to graduate and finish college, and to get married and have kids and—oh god, _May_. 

Peter felt his heart twinge painfully when the thought crossed his mind. He was never going to be able to see her again. She was going to be all alone. God, he couldn’t do that to her—and Ned. He wouldn’t ever be able to see his best friend, his guy in the chair, his brother ever again. And MJ, Happy, Tony, even Flash— _he was never going to see anyone again_. 

“Mr. Stark, I-I don’t wanna go—sir, please, I don’t wanna go,” he choked out, clinging onto Tony as if he was his lifeline (and he was because oh god he was dying he was dying he _was dying_ ). Tears were starting to run down his cheeks, and a part of him still had the nerve to feel ashamed that he was crying in front of his idol and clinging to him like he was a little kid. 

The terrible tearing feeling had extended its way into his knees and he could feel Tony setting him down on the ground, placing a hand softly on top of the one now resting on his chest and squeezing it softly. The gesture nearly made Peter burst into sobs, but he managed to choke it back. 

Looking up at Tony, he realized the man had meant something more than just an idol to him. Over the past two years the two had grown close—not _extremely_ close, of course—but close enough to work on projects together and to go get ice cream together and to watch movies together, and it wasn’t weird or awkward. Tony would bother him about his homework and ask him if he was doing okay whenever they saw each other, and Peter would, of course, be actively trying not to stutter or do something awkward whenever they talked because the man still gave him a heart attack every time he saw him because _Jesus Christ he was Tony Stark_. 

But, Peter realized, he wasn’t just Tony Stark. He wasn’t just Tony.

He was his father.

And Peter felt like the biggest dumbass in the world for noticing it at the last second.

He wished he could’ve said more. He wished he could’ve worked up the courage to talk to Tony more and to tell him how amazing of a mentor he was and how great of a father figure he was and just how amazing of a _person_ he was, because he knew Tony didn’t believe it himself. Peter wasn’t blind. There were days when Tony would cancel their plans and time in the labs, and the next day he would look like walked out of The Walking Dead. And he knew exactly _why_ Tony did the things he did to himself because he would be lying if he didn’t contemplate it himself. 

He wished he could’ve helped him more. He wished he could’ve helped others more, too. He wished he could’ve been stronger, so Tony wouldn’t be so worried about him all the time and feel like he had to keep an eye on him every second of the day.

And goddamnit he wished he had held on to that gauntlet a little bit tighter. 

All of this Peter wished he could’ve said to Tony in his final moments, but he knew it wasn’t going to happen. There wasn’t enough time. The pain was growing, and he could feel his legs crumbling and his hands crumbling (and _he was dying_ ).

All he could do was sum it up in two, soft, trembling words.

“I’m sorry.”

_See you soon, Ben_.

Dust.

**Author's Note:**

> I hate myself as much as you do for writing this. I was literally just up at 2AM, wanting to write something, and this came to mind because I'm a masochistic piece of shit. If they don't bring Peter back and keep Tony alive in Avengers 4 I'm going to lose my mind. There was a leak that for Spiderman Far From Home Peter's mouring Tony's death and It's just like "I'm sorry bITch NO" because I want this family to sTAY ALIVE. PLEASE.
> 
>  
> 
> Anyways, I apologize for that mini rant but this is my first archive post! Yay! Hope you guys like it!


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